and so the lion fell in love with the lamb
by Xennon
Summary: Harry is used, abused, and broken. His suppressed magic bursts in order to prevent him from becoming an obscurus. The burst sends him back in time. In comes Tom Riddle. M for skepticism. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to this fanfiction, I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter series and associated accounts.**

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The late autumn chill caressed the wisps of his hair and cheeks, causing a tinge of red to appear due to the cold. It was dawn, where the night is the darkest before it all turns to become bright.

The baby had been in front of the doorstep for the past four hours, soaking in the cold of the night due to a certain neglectful headmaster.

Inside the house, Petunia Dursley just got up for the day, content with her life. She had a darling baby boy as well as a husband who was a hardworking man who cared for his family. She was at her peak.

Then, she went outside to fetch the morning newspaper from the doorstep.

When she saw the baby lying there, she jumped back in shock.

Heart racing, she contemplated as to what to do. She then noticed the letter placed beside the sleeping form, and picked it up.

Reading her name on it, she opened the letter with shaking hands before reading it and suddenly have her eyes brimming with tears.

She glanced at the child, noticing not only the similarities between him and Lily's husband, but the obvious signs of developing hypothermia.

Hardening her resolve and calling upon her mothering instincts, she went to pick up the baby into her arms, accidentally parting hair and seeing the dreaded scar that was mentioned in the letter.

Sighing, she brought the child back in and placed the him in Dursley's old cot that was set up beside the radiator. They always meant to put it away, but actually never got around to it.

Deciding to think upon the matter later, she hurried to make breakfast for her husband before he got up.

When he left an hour later, he was blissfully unaware of the other baby in his house.

Harry woke up a short while after he was put down, the coldness in this bones had gone away, but he felt awful and kept shivering.

Dudley usually didn't wake up this early, as he liked to stay up to fuss around and stay asleep till around noon.

So she had time to think.

After closing the door behind her husband, she headed to the living room where he was laying down.

She pulled the cot over to the couch and sat down, peering down at him and contemplating.

She noticed his eyes were open and fully alert, darting around and trying to get an impression of where he was. His eyes, Lily's eyes.

It wasn't fair,The child inside her screamed. Lily got both the looks and the magic!

Yet now she is dead. She thought back bitterly, effectively silencing the childish voice.

What was she going to do? The child with Lily's eyes represented exactly what she hated what she tried so hard to escape from- magic.

Reading the letter again, she saw it noted that they'd be given £500 a week to compensate for the child's living fees. That was a lot of money.

They'd be rich.

But yet while it was temping, she still had doubts.

Looking at the boy, Petunia knew he had magic in his veins. Knew that, given the chance, he'd be what Lily was. Dudley would go through what it was like being Petunia, the lesser one who never was quite as special as her sister.

She couldn't allow that.

If the freak was going to stay, she certainly wasn't going to treat him with any kindness.

If he developed thoughts that he was higher than the others, that simply couldn't do.

A crazed look sparking in her eyes. She'll have to beat it out if him. That, paired along with the money, was the only way this freak would stay in this house.

Nodding slightly, that's what she resolved.

Taking a final glance at the child who seemed to be constantly shivering, she stood up and headed to the storage room, fetching a bottle of stale powdered milk out of the set given to them by a friend who worked with baby powder at Dudley's baby shower three years ago.

The dozens of cans had always been sitting there, as Petunia preferred to breastfeed her children instead of trusting artificial methods.

She found one of Dudley's old sippy cup amongst the mess as well, not broken, but the mouth piece was throughly gnawed through.

She made a mental note to look for mouthpieces on the next time she went shopping.

She was determined not to spend the money given to them on the boy when he grew older. He'd get things from Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Everything was planned out, all she had left to do was to tell Vernon.

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The money bought him off.

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 **I have writer's block for the other fic. Sorry.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope you enjoy this**

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A six year old boy sat on the worn mattress in the cupboard that was his room, trying to wrap his arm with the gauze he had already used multiple instances prior to this one. His hair growing to shield over his emerald-shades eyes ever so slightly, blocking out the dim light coming through the cracks from under the door.

Brushing it away distractedly, he noted in the back of his mind that he needed a haircut.

Marge had come to visit. One of her dogs, either Killer or Ripper- he never could tell them apart, had bitten his elbow. There was a bruise already stationed at his elbow from Vernon's effort to get him to behave prior to the dog breeder visiting. The additional bite marks that covered his arm could hardly mean anything good.

He had a damp piece of an old shirt that acted as a cloth with him, and was dabbing at the beaded blood that was starting to trickle down his arm.

Damn the dogs. Damn his family.

The dog let out a loud yelp after biting him, drawing the attention of his relatives.

Aunt Marge looked up from her seat and instantly angered.

She started yelling at him for hurting her babies. They wouldn't have done anything if they weren't attacked first. How dare the scrawny unwanted kid treat her children in that way.

Of course, she knew that it wasn't the boy. She knew the dogs were trained to attack anyone who was considered weak. It was part of the breeding training, that's all.

Still, she yelled and his uncle came storming in.

Vernon picked him up by his collar and threw him violently into his "room".

He knew he was going to be beaten later. He knew that all too well.

A silent tear streaked down his cheek before he rubbed it away hastily.

There is no point in feeling sorry for yourself in this world. He has long since known that.

It was just- it hurt.

Not the wound, but the abuse.

His parents died in a car crash a year after he was born. He wasn't told his actual birthday, as his relatives always treated the matter dismissively.

He was, however, told the night of his parents' death. The night he came to live at Privet Drive.

October 31st, 1981. So he judged himself born on the same date, but a year prior to that.

Not something people would usually willingly do, setting your birthday on the night of the death of those close to you.

But honestly, he felt something akin to hate for his parents. They left him with these monstrous relatives, abandoned him on a drunk night when they were stupid and reckless enough to get themselves killed.

This left him alone with the worst people ever to grace this earth. Not caring in the slightest for his condition.

The only reason he was still here, as his aunt let slip once when she was drunk, was due to the massive inheritance he had.

He figured his father must've been rich. Rich and stupid. His mother, either a gold digger or a love struck fool.

His supposed family hit him. A lot. For every mistake, misstep even though he was a kid. They never hurt Dudley.

They starved him, beat him. Whipped him with belts and canes.

No matter, they thought. All the marks were gone by the next morning. He could still feel it though. His broken ribs, blackened eye, ripped back, scarred thighs.

He figured that the wounds just hid themselves instead of healed.

Well that's another freaky thing about him to add to the list.

He could do many things, he found.

Talk to snakes, float off the ground, teleport, make wounds disappear. He found out the second and third on the same day. Dudley was coming home from daycare, he attacked Harry with a hammer and was aiming for his head.

In a panic, something happened and suddenly he was on top of the roof. Dudley screamed and ran for his mother.

Petunia then came out furious, and paled at the look of him on the roof. She hissed at him down, lest the neighbors see.

He slipped.

He fell.

Not really fell, just drifted down like a feather would.

Petunia grew even a angrier.

He wondered how he could be expected to do the list of chores tomorrow that night when he lay in bed covered in bruises and whip marks.

Petunia never let blood flow out of him. Vernon never hit his face. Dudley didn't have any limitations apart from the fact that he was still a kid himself.

So now he sat there with a aching arm and heavy chest, wondering who would be the one to punish him that night.

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 **I mean, it's something.**


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